Jar Of Hearts
by BulletsCoffeeFaith
Summary: "Time and time again, he would fall, and he would break." Songfic.


**A/N: Ello, my little pretties!**

**Excuse me for this very weird and very random songfic. I'm counting down to the finale; I've got to have something to do, right? I know this song is a break-up, romantic type song, but we're just going to overlook that this one time, alright? It's a beautiful song and I couldn't help myself. Enjoy!**

* * *

A coward.

It was wrong.

God, it was so wrong.

The way they came down to the planet of another species, engaged war, stole their children…and for what? Simply to have power? Or maybe another planet their kind could call home, to solve the population problems in God-knows-where? Whatever the reason, it wasn't reason enough for him. How sick and twisted.

Ben wasn't sure he could take much more of this. He was beginning to see shadows climbing up and down his walls and night, listening to demonic voices deep inside of his head, jumping at the sound of a crunching leaf, even – oh, God – even freezing up in the face of a Skitter, something he'd never done before. And in _battle _nonetheless, leaving his worried older brother to rescue him and promptly drag him off to the medical wing for a check-up.

It was disgusting, what they'd done. What they'd turned him into…a freak.

A coward. A freak.

* * *

_No, I can't take one more step towards you_

'_Cause all that's waiting is regret_

_And don't you know I'm not your ghost anymore?_

_You lost the love I loved the most_

_I learned to live…_

_Half alive…_

_And now you want me one more time…_

* * *

How many more Skitters could he kill, Mechs could he shoot down and lives could he save, before he finally broke? Ben wasn't sure. This war was at its climax. The more serious things seemed to get, the worse his battle skills were becoming. They were slowly dwindling away, it seemed. Leaving no room for anything but misery and a shattered life behind.

What would they think of him? His family, his friends, once they found out what a true coward he had become? The boy with the spikes on his back, fearful of his own shadow; he could see it on the headlines now. Maybe his father and his brothers would be supportive, but they wouldn't understand, they _could _never understand this. Even Matt was nearing the age where he would want to join their front-line defenses. How would it look, him sitting in his cot, sniffling and feeling sorry for himself while the rest of his family fought for his safety?

A coward. A freak. A destroyed soldier.

* * *

_And who do you think you are…_

_Running round leaving scars?_

_Collecting your jar of hearts_

_And tearing love apart?_

_You're gonna catch a cold_

_From the ice inside your soul_

_So don't come back for me_

_Who do you think you are?_

* * *

"Ben?"

He rolled hesitantly over to his other side in the cot, half-asleep, looking for the one who'd brought him out of sleep. Across the room, lying in his own cot, Hal looked at him with wide eyes. Ben felt his eyebrows pull together. Why did he look so concerned?

"Yeah, Hal?"

"Why are you crying?"

Ben started. He turned quickly away, lifting a hand to his face. To his horror, it came away wet and salty. He'd been crying in his sleep…crying in his harmless, dreamless sleep?

"I'm okay. Did I wake you up?" He swiveled his head back around to Hal, wishing to direct the conversation away from himself. His brother frowned momentarily at him.

"Nah…couldn't sleep anyway," he said slowly. "But…you know you can come talk to me if you want, right? You know I'm here?" The words sent a spasm of pain through his chest, although Ben knew they were meant to do the exact opposite. Somebody who'd wasted so much time on him already still wanted to help him, and what was the last kind thing Ben had done for his brother? He wasn't just a freak. He was a freeloader.

"I know," he gave Hal a tight, forced smile. "I'm alright, really. Love you," he added, turning back on his side and closing his eyes.

"Love you, too," the warm response came. Ben, despite the lingering ache in his chest, felt a sense of satisfaction. Hal wasn't the easiest person to fool. But he seemed to believe – for the moment at least – that Ben had nothing troubling enough to speak of.

He had too many things he wanted to tell his brother. None of them were worth Hal's time, and so his lips stayed sealed.

A coward. A freak. A destroyed soldier. A freeloader.

* * *

_I hear you're asking all around_

_If I'm anywhere to be found_

_But I have grown too strong_

_To ever fall back in your arms_

_I learned to live, half-alive_

_And now you want me one more time_

* * *

He could feel them again; he could hear them.

Ben heard the Mechs on their way long before anybody else in the Second Mass could ever have anticipated their arrival. Maybe they wanted a battle; maybe they wanted their de-harnessed kids back, or other kids to replace them. Anne Glass had oh-so-recently pulled the harnesses off of three young teenage girls. No doubt the Skitters were growing sick of this thievery.

His warning was quickly accepted by Weaver – he was ordered, along with the other fighters, to gear up and meet out front.

Ben hurried to his cot, scrambling for his gun, and suddenly paused. He held his hand in the air, hesitating. Did he want to do this? He'd been freezing up too much lately – he couldn't afford to not come back from this fight. What would his family do? They would be crushed. Hal and his father would cry, and Matt simply wouldn't understand. But then again, Ben didn't understand their need to kill, their thirst for death, any more than his nine-year-old brother would.

Ben paused, pulling a now-trembling hand away from the gun.

What a coward he was, to suddenly feel so frightened of fighting a war. Would that have stopped him three weeks ago?

Pale skin, shaking like a leaf, Ben knew he could easily slip into the medical wing and get out of this. Anne would insist on bed rest, the mother-hen she was when it came to the Mason boys. He wouldn't have to fight. He wouldn't have to worry about his family, how they would feel if they lost him.

And what would he do about the next battle, and the next one after that?

For now, he would take it one step at a time.

A coward. A freak. A destroyed soldier. A freeloader. Always, _always_ afraid.

Time and time again, he would fall, and he would break.

* * *

_And who do you think you are…_

_Running round leaving scars?_

_Collecting your jar of hearts_

_And tearing love apart?_

_You're gonna catch a cold_

_From the ice inside your soul_

_So don't come back for me_

_Don't come back at all_

_Who do you think you are?_

_Who do you think you are?_

_Who do…you think…you are…?_

* * *

**A/N: I spent almost an hour and a half writing this…review for effort?**


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